You Can’t Spell Toxic without X

Right there in the middle of the word “toxic” is X, the everything app.

Headlines last night were about how people have stopped buying Teslas because Elon has become too toxic.

I think that’s probably true. And there’s been a retraction in the EV space in general. I’m not completely sure why. But I do know, anecdotally, about a lot of self-styled experts who say the cars are no good, wherever they’re from.

A lot of it is fear. A lot of it is certain demographics holding on to the internal combustion engine because they feel like they’ve lost everything else.

As for Things Elon Does. I’m completely off Twitter/X. Not necessarily because of him, bu that’s part of it.

I have this theory, not particularly well-developed, that Michael Jackson was a gestalt figure at the crux of celebrity, race, exploitation, and child endangerment. He personified the symptoms of our disordered relationship with art, commerce, and the end product: superstar. Elvis had some of that, too. Whatever else he is, Donald Trump is a gestalt célèbre, a self-identified symptom of what’s sick about our political system in general. He has said so himself (“the system is rigged, she knows it, and that’s why she won’t fix it. It benefits her and her donors.” Chappelle makes a very good point about that). In the same way, Elon Musk is social media personified. He needs to unplug. He needs to touch grass (the real kind). We all do.

Headlines this morning were about how 40% of adults go three days without in-person interactions. That’s part of why keeping us polarized has become so damn easy. Shares of Truth Social may have plummeted, Musk may have all but destroyed Twitter, but people are still making money keeping us so hell-bent on hating each other. If you’re sucked into this matrix, if you think these billionaires want to save you, maybe turn your phone off. If you’re one of these 40%, left, right, or middle, go talk to a neighbor. Volunteer somewhere. Take someone soup. Do something in person. Remember that people are complicated, we all work from faulty assumptions, we’re all prone to fooling ourselves. Play pickleball (if you must). Find a way to connect, flesh and blood, Vitamin D, birds chirping. The good stuff.

St Paul put it this way: “Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.”

Henri Nouwen said this:

“If you know you are the Beloved, you can live with an enormous amount of success and an enormous amount of failure without losing your identity. Because your identity is that you are the Beloved… The question becomes ‘Can I live a life of faith in the world and trust that it will bear fruit?’”

Nouwen’s not so-secret secret? We’re all the Beloved. If you struggle to see the image of God in others, congratulations, you’re human. But part of that burden is trusting that putting your faith into work will, indeed, bear fruit.

In November, we’ll elect a president. We are not crowning a Messiah. Celebrities have agendas like the rest of us, and it turns out that not even the technocrats will save us.

“Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.” MLK said that, paraphrasing Jesus.

This post is a work in progress. More to come as I have it. But please, stop worshiping political figures, celebrities, and internet clout.

Saying No to Yes

Daily writing prompt
If you had to give up one word that you use regularly, what would it be?

The answer, my friends, is “yes.” I’m not going to spill a lot of digital ink here. If you say “yes” too much, you probably already know it. You know the reasons to stop. You know what everyone says about self-care. You worry about going too far in the new direction and becoming selfish. You know who you are and you know to take time to think about why you can’t say “no” and how to get a handle on it.

If you never say yes, and if that’s because you’re a selfish jerk, I’m not talking about you.

Most beautiful souls say “yes” too much. So knock it off a little.

Buber and Brautigan

I have a theological degree, but that’s not what this post is about. And we can’t reduce what Buber is saying to a single line, however pithy. But it does remind me of Brautigan’s beautiful “I Was Trying to Describe You To Someone.” They’re sort of saying the same thing.

“When two people relate to each other authentically and humanly, God is the electricity that surges between them.”
Martin Buber

r_brautigan

What Do You Enjoy Most About Writing?

Daily writing prompt
What do you enjoy most about writing?

For me, I’d have to say it’s the near-constant rejection. Or maybe the discourse on the platform formerly known as Twitter.

Ha ha.

Seriously, though. Writing is its own reward. The process. Figuring things out, creating a voice or a tone or a character. Describing something with images and meter. Using creative neuro-pathways. All of it.

Right now I’m also enjoying these.

On this Day in 1970 (Or, When We Gave a Damn About Mass Shootings)

(Also posted on Substack)

53 years ago today, Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young recorded “Ohio,” Neil Young’s response to the Kent State killings 18 days prior. It seems almost quaint, the idea that a mass shooting would spark this kind of visceral reaction.

We’re told, often, that everyday citizens need AR-15s and the like for self defense and that they’re especially needed in case the government starts doing things we don’t like. We’re told this, often, by the same people who uncritically support every single action the military industrial complex takes at home or abroad. We’re told this, often, by the kind of people who probably thought what happened at Kent State “should have been done long ago.”

Gotta get down to it
Soldiers are cutting us down
Should have been done long ago
What if you knew her and
Found her dead on the ground?
How can you run when you know?

I was born ten years after Kent State and graduated high school the year before Columbine. The assault weapons ban passed when I was in eighth grade and expired when I was in my 20s.

I asked Canva Magic Write (basically, a marketing AI) to tell me if mass shootings increased since the ban expired. Here’s the pathetic response:

So I Googled it. Here’s a pretty clear answer from, appropriately, the Ohio Capital Journal. Decide for yourself.

I’m not saying anything close to “let’s repeal the Second Amendment.” But we can’t keep running. 53 years ago, the “soldiers cutting us down” were 28 members of the Ohio National Guard who shot 67 rounds into a crowd of unarmed students in 13 seconds. So too, the massacre’s apologists. Today, the people cutting us down are deranged lunatics with easy access to the weapons of war. So too, lobbyists; so too politicians. So too anyone who bemoans (the very real) mental health crisis in this country and then shoots down any attempts at comprehensive healthcare reform, slashes budgets to earn gold star ratings from think thanks, claims falsely that creating a continuum of real care is more costly than letting these things trickle down in the streets, at workplaces, at schools.

What if you knew her and
Found her dead on the ground?
How can you run when you know?